


operator, please

by orphan_account



Category: Persona 5
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Phone Sex, Post-Canon, extremely meandering dirty talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-26 05:01:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10780098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Ryuji has Yusuke on the brain, but at least it's mutual.





	operator, please

**Author's Note:**

> i was 100% ready to throw myself behind akira/yusuke, but then i got sniped by an extremely good rarepair. what did i expect, i guess.
> 
> takes place at some unspecified point in third year when they're both eighteen.

It’s ten thirty on a Tuesday morning, and Ryuji’s bored.

In and of itself, this isn’t unusual. Biology’s been his worst subject since middle school, and at Shujin it’s unfortunately taught by Mr Hiruta. Chouno might be kind of a bitch, and he’s never seen Kawakami look enthused in his life, but Hiruta has been known to go on for hours about a single paragraph in the textbook, then inform the room that actually, everything he had just said would be on the exam. His teaching style, if it can even be called that, has never worked for Ryuji, and he’s found himself dozing off more than once.

He wonders what Akira’s doing right now, halfway across the country; if he’s also in biology class, taking notes or listening to Morgana’s commentary or staring out the window. He wonders if Akira misses him, and resolves to drop him a text that afternoon. But then, as they always do lately, his thoughts turn to Yusuke.

Yusuke is his friend, but Ryuji’s never had any other friendships where meeting up is usually followed by going home and making out on the couch. It’s a reasonably new development, sometime in the last month and a half, but he really isn’t complaining. They haven’t gone any further than that, partly because the walls in the Kosei dorms are paper-thin, but mostly because getting naked together is a little too far into the territory of Not Friendship for him to dismiss. He’s been skirting around that kind of stuff for the last few weeks, worryingly aware of everything he’s forcing himself not to think about: does he, y’know, _feel_ anything for him? Would he know if he did? And either way, are they still just friends if he knows how Yusuke’s dick feels through his pants?

He bites down on his lip, determined to stop that train of thought in its tracks. He’s almost never horny this early in the day; his libido tends to peak late at night, when he can climb into bed and let his fantasies play out in the dark behind his eyelids. Besides, he should at least pretend to pay attention in class, especially since Akira and Makoto spent most of last year trying to salvage his grades. The least he can do is repay all the time and faith they invested in him.

And yet, now that the image has crossed his mind, he can’t stop thinking about it.

What would it be like to touch Yusuke – to really _touch him_ , and not just grind against each other through too many clothes? Closing his eyes, he tries to imagine how someone else’s dick would feel in his hand: probably a lot like his own, except the physical basics of touching himself are always filtered through the sheer sensation.

So he tries to imagine the weight of it without the pleasure, and comes up short again. He knows from porn that dicks don’t all look the same, so they probably feel different as well, in ways that are totally beyond him. But Yusuke’s fingers are long and elegant, so maybe his dick is too? Ryuji curls one hand into a fist, pretending that he’s squeezing down on Yusuke instead of just air, and the mental image makes him swallow heavily.

Yusuke’s a pretty transparent guy, and he’s no different when they make out: he’s incredibly vocal, from breathy sighs up to barely-stifled moans, so it isn’t hard to imagine the kind of reaction that would get out of him. And there’s a certain way that Yusuke says his name when Ryuji kisses his neck or his collarbone or the pulse under his jaw that makes him want to do it again, and again, until all of Yusuke’s sounds blur together and he’s clutching desperately at the sheets and –

Fuck. He’s in class – _biology_ class, of all things – and he’s half-hard under his desk.

He draws in a slow, deep breath and considers his options. He could wait for it to go down naturally, but whatever it is they’re supposed to be learning today, it isn’t a good enough distraction from the concept of getting to second base with Yusuke Kitagawa. (If that’s even what second base is. Maybe it’s different between guys?)

So: screw it. He excuses himself to the bathroom, walking quickly and angling himself so his problem isn’t immediately obvious. Ann looks at him strangely as he goes, but there’s nothing he can say to her that won’t make things worse. At least he’s safe out in the hallway; it’s deserted, and he makes it to the nearest men’s room without incident. Then Ryuji locks himself in a stall, braces himself against the door, and pulls out his phone with shaky hands.

> _u free after school_  
> _cant stop thinking about what i wanna do to u_

The response comes back lightning-quick.

> _Ryuji, I’m in class. This is hardly appropriate._

Well, fuck, he’s just made himself look like an idiot. Except then his phone buzzes again:

> _One moment._

Holy shit. Ryuji rests his forehead against the wall of the cubicle, staring at those two short words, and wonders what he’s gotten himself into.

It could be a minute or an hour later that his phone rings; he picks up, swallows, answers. “Hey.”

“So,” says Yusuke, straight to the point as ever, “what exactly were you thinking about?”

“You want me to tell you? Now?”

“I have to confess, you’re not the only one who’s been wondering about that. I thought we could compare.”

The words seem innocuous, and to somebody else they would be. But anyone who thinks Yusuke is chaste just because he’s weird doesn’t know how he gets when he wants something; he’s all passion all the way down, approaching the matter of coaxing another moan out of Ryuji with the same fervor he would his latest piece. It’s a lot sexy and a little terrifying.

Idly, Ryuji checks his watch: twenty minutes til next period. And he’s picked a fairly secluded bathroom, so the chance of being interrupted is pretty low. But still… he was almost expelled last year. Can he really afford to get caught doing whatever it is he’s about to do?

Yusuke is still waiting on the line, quiet but expectant, and he sends a silent apology to God, Akira, and his mother in that order.

“Shit, alright,” he says. “What do you want me to say?”

He doesn’t think he’s imagining the scrape of a zipper on the other end of the call. “As I said, I’d like you to tell me what you were thinking.”

Dirty talk is objectively pretty hot, and Ryuji doesn’t think anyone would disagree. Except, faced with the prospect of having to actually initiate it, he flounders. How is he supposed to start, except with the embarrassing truth?

“I was thinking about you,” he tries. He licks his lips, palms his erection for inspiration, plunges tentatively onward. “Touching you.”

“Mmm.”

“Like, with your pants off.” Yusuke makes another encouraging sound, and he goes on with a little more confidence. “And your shirt. I wanna see you naked and, and get my hands all over you.”

“I have very sensitive skin.”

“Good. Then I get to know how I’m making you feel.” 

“As if I’d want to hide it.”

“Where are you right now?”

“Bathroom. And you?”

“Same.” He draws in a deep breath. “You touchin’ yourself?”

“What do you think?”

“I think that’s a yes.”

“How could I not, Ryuji? I’m not sure you understand what you do to me.”

“Fuck, one sec.” He moves his phone to his other hand and, with some maneuvering, manages to get his dick out. By now he’s fully hard, and he strokes himself once or twice before continuing. “Okay, what was I up to?”

“I’m naked,” says Yusuke, “and you’re running your hands along my skin.”

He bites his lip. “You want me naked too?”

“That’s only fair.”

“I gotta say, dude, your body’s gonna put mine to shame.”

“Nonsense. We once went to the bathhouse together, remember? And there was certainly nothing objectionable about your build.”

“That was, like, a year ago. You were checking me out all the way back then?”

He can hear the smile in Yusuke’s voice. “I’ve always been looking at you.”

“Damn, dude.” Ryuji’s hand stills on his dick. “I didn’t know.”

“Well, I was trying not to be too obvious.”

This is starting to get dangerously feelsy. There are things he wants to say to Yusuke, things he’s only now realizing, and the urgency of them burns on his tongue. But he deserves better than to hear them in this situation, even if it’s going to kill him to wait. Maybe he’ll take him out to dinner at Leblanc later, or – no, somewhere nicer, shit, he’s getting distracted again.

“Sorry,” he manages. “Wanna keep going?”

“Of course. We’ve got each other naked, so what next?”

Out of the frying pan, and straight into the fire. All of the porn Ryuji’s seen has had girls in it; even after his whatever-this-is with Yusuke had started, he’d never quite been able to bring himself to watch the gay stuff. So he really has no baseline for what he’s supposed to do with another guy, except to project his own fantasies and hope something sticks. But teenage guys are all the same, probably. Hopefully.

“So I’d be jerking you off,” he says, “and kissing you too, obviously. And I’d sorta… twist my wrist as I touch you? I mean, if you like that.”

“Mm. Yes – yes, that’s good.”

“And I…” Truth be told, there’s something else he’s been considering lately, beyond just being able to touch. In the moment, he decides to go for it; maybe it’s too much too fast, or maybe Yusuke’s going to think he’s gross, but this is all fantasy, right? “But I don’t think that’d be enough for me. I wanna taste you too.”

“ _God_ , yes.”

“You like that idea?” A staticky moan, and Ryuji wraps his hand around his dick again and starts to pump. The words seem to flow easier when he’s touching himself; that, or he just has far less shame about it. “I’ve been thinkin’ about sucking you off for so long, but I didn’t think you’d want to.”

“You’re going to drive me mad. The thought of you doing that is –”

“I want you to hold onto my hair when I do it,” he cuts in. “And I don’t want you to let go until you finish. You wanna cum down my throat, babe?”

Yusuke almost whines into the phone. “Say that again,” he demands.

“What,” he says, suddenly self-conscious, “c-cum?”

“No, the other thing.”

“Babe?” Ryuji hazards, and is rewarded by a sigh. “You like it when I call you that?”

A breathy laugh. “Obviously.”

“Okay then, babe, tell me what else you want.”

“I… hah, I’m no good at this, Ryuji. Words are difficult for me sometimes.”

“I don’t really know what I’m doing either,” he admits. “But this is fun, right? Getting off together?”

“Of course. I just wish I could do better.”

“We’ll improve together, dude. And for now, you’re still super hot? Like, fuck, wish I could see what you look like right now.”

“You do?”

“Duh, you’re gorgeous. ‘Specially when you’re turned on.”

“One moment. Don’t stop – don’t stop touching yourself, all right?”

There’s rustling on the other end of the line, and he slows his pace accordingly; there’s no point in driving himself madly towards a climax if he’s the only one who can hear it. He waits silently, tense with anticipation, his breathing too loud in the empty restroom. Then his phone vibrates against his ear, and Yusuke comes back on. “There,” he says, sounding thoroughly satisfied with himself. “Take a look.”

He swallows. “You didn’t –”

“I did.”

“Okay, hold on.”

Ryuji peels his phone away from his ear, opens the message flashing on his home screen, and almost drops it. It’s a picture of Yusuke, and the fact that it’s only from the shoulders up isn’t even a disappointment. Eyes half-lidded, lips parted on a shaky breath; the soft lighting brings out the depth of his gaze, and the dark streaks of his eyelashes, and the color high in his cheeks. It’s easily the hottest thing he’s ever seen, and he stares at it for what could be an hour before he remembers that _the real, actual Yusuke is still on the line_ and waiting for his next move.

“Shit, dude,” he chokes out, stroking himself faster again. The image feels like it’s been imprinted on his vision, like if he closes his eyes he’ll be greeted by Yusuke’s fuck-me expression again. “You look even better than I thought.”

“You’re just flattering me.”

“No, for real. Fuck, I wanna touch you so bad I can’t stand it. I wanna get you to cum in my hand, or, or in my mouth, or wherever you want.”

“ _Wherever_?” Yusuke asks teasingly, and Ryuji pauses to consider the arousal that floods him. Is he really willing to – hold on, that isn’t even a question. If he could trust the guy in battle against Shadows for the better part of a year, he can trust him with his body.

“Yeah, wherever. I mean it.”

There’s a heavy sound – Yusuke leaning back against a wall, most likely. “Then why don’t you finish me off?”

“Tell me how.”

“Could you – can you say my name? I’d like to hear it from you.”

“Yusuke?” 

“Mm, just like that.” He blows out a breath. “ _Ryuji._ ”

“Yusuke,” he pants, spurred on by the noises the other boy is making. He’s getting close, but this isn’t supposed to be about him, so he redoubles his efforts. “Yusuke, Yusuke, fuck, Yusuke –”

Yusuke cries out sharply and without warning. And god, is that what he sounds like when he cums? He can’t wait to hear it in person, right in his ear, and feel Yusuke unravel against him, and and and

He spills into his hand with a groan, cum hot against his fingers, and sags against the side of the cubicle. “Yusuke,” he rasps once more, and gets a satisfied sound in return.

Ryuji closes his eyes and lets his breathing slow down, listening to Yusuke do the same on the other end. He’s uncomfortably sweaty and sticky now that the excitement’s over, but cleaning himself up can wait a little longer. “Hey,” he ventures, “was that alright?”

“Yes, Ryuji, I enjoyed it very much.” There’s that smile in his voice again, the one that makes his heart jump a little. “And you?”

“Yeah – yeah, same. But you never answered my question: wanna get dinner tonight?”

“I can’t afford –”

“My treat,” he cuts in. “’Sides, you know I picked up a part-time job last month.”

“Well, if you insist. Where do you want to meet?”

“The plaza at Shibuya?”

“That works – oh, I think somebody’s coming. We’ll speak later, Ryuji.”

“Yeah,” he says, and hangs up.

Yusuke’s selfie is still displayed on his phone screen, and it stretches out the intimacy of the moment. He takes it in once more, now that he isn’t otherwise occupied, and _wow_ : he’s really done well for himself.

He brings up the menu, and his fingers hover over the save button. There’s no reason he can’t keep it, right? Yusuke sent it to him freely, knowing he’d use it for his own ends, and that’s an act of trust he doesn’t want to take lightly. And he’s pretty sure he’ll never need to jerk off to anything else again, even if he wanted to. Except, except...

In the end, he winds up deleting the photo. The real thing, after all, will be so much better.


End file.
